Warlock: A Study in War
by Sutekh123
Summary: 1942. The height of the Second World War. When a platoon of English Soldiers we're shot down in France, the only survivor; Dr. John Watson tries to live a normal everyday life, but finds it difficult when he meets Sherlock Holmes, and even more so when he learns of a plot that will allow the Nazi's to win the war… Please R and R. AU of the series. -Don't expect reguler updates-


**What if Sherlock was set during the Second World War? Well we are about to find out! Hello and welcome to a new fan fiction that I am calling Warlock: A Study in War. Please note that this includes mild swearing and possible sexual references. Don't forget to Review ;-)**

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_'In this time of need from all men and women, when our very England is at stake; I cannot bring myself to return to the front lines. The events that had happened still scare me several weeks after. I was lucky to have survived. My entire squadron of men was shot down right before my very own eyes by the enemies of our great nation. I was the only survivor. I am an Army Doctor; not a fighter. I am Dr. John H Watson. I don't like to kill or fight. But I did it for our country. And I couldn't be any happier that I did; yet I can't bring myself to return. And it seems the army didn't want me back either. When I was in hospital, two men visited me. They told me that I was to remain in the city of London; my home town, and help any man or woman or child that came through the doors of Bart's Hospital. More and more men are dying out there, and those who survive are brought back here to recover, so they need me to remain on guard and ready to help; they had said. However I could not manage to save anyone with my broken shoulder I revised in the battle. When I was called in earlier today, I saw a 5 year old child who was dying. He was in a house that had been hit by a bomb and he was losing too much blood. I tried to help but I couldn't manage. So I have retired from my job as a Doctor and is currently resining with a friend who I have known for many years now. I don't know what I shall do with myself now, if all comes to worst I-' _Dr. Watson sat down his pen and rubbed his eyes. He looked over to his clock; it was half 11 at night. "I suppose I'll kick it in for the night" he said to himself as he chuckled, the laughter soon stopped once he heard the painful sounds of the air-raid sirens. "Blast those Nazis!" he said "Every night they come for us. When will this bloody war stop?"

...

As Watson closed the door to his friends flat, he straightened his top hat and began walking down the small flight of stairs. Soon he came to the edge of the street and soon found himself walking down the dull grey street that lead to a small park. The streets we're teaming with people. All scared of what may happen the next night, and praying that the war would come to an end. Watson was a tall man standing with a firmly laid body. He was around 35, maybe 40. He had short darkish blonde hair with a powerful chin. He wore a grey overcoat over his new suit. He walked with a cain in his left hand making sure he kept at balance. Sooner he came to the park it was better; he thought, the sooner he got out of the dull cloudy streets he could actually breath fresh air again. He hated the smell of car fumes. All of a sudden, he heard his name being shouted. "John?" Dr. Watson spun on his heel. It was a tall man around his height. He looked around 50 with a strangely shaped nose that looked like the beak of a bird. His small beading eyes looked at Watson. "John Watson? Right?" the man repeated

Watson thought for a moment, he had recognised the man's face from somewhere… an old school friend perhaps? He thought for a second longer, holding out his hand and said "Stamford? Mike Stamford?"

"Yes. Nice to meet you again John!" Stamford shook Watson's hand

"Yeah. Nice to see you again too"

"I thought you we're off in France or something like that getting your ass handed to you. What happened?"

"Got my ass handed to me. And to my entire squad. I was the only survivor" Watson signed

"Oh my god… I'm so sorry to hear that. What happened?"

"Nazi platoon came out of nowhere. We weren't prepared for a full on fight… rescue came but they we're too late; the Nazis had left…" Watson closed his eyes; he couldn't bear to remember more "Please… I can't"

"I'm sorry"

"Don't worry. It wasn't your fault"

"So where are you living now?"

"Staying with a friend for the moment until I can find a place to stay at. But the trouble is that he's married and the wife's pregnant. I should move out as soon as I can" Watson said "But I don't have much money and with medium wages… I can't afford a full house or flat"

"Could get a flat share or something"

Watson let out a small chuckle "Come on. Who would want to share a flat share with me?"

It was now Stamford's turn to laugh. "It's funny. You're the second man to say that to me today"

"And who was the first?" Watson asked.

"A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not get someone to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had found, and which were too much for his purse."

"By Jove! If he really wants someone to share the rooms and the expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer having a partner to being alone."

Stamford looked rather strangely at Watson "You don't know Sherlock Holmes yet…" he said

...

The two walked down the long street and eventually turned down a narrow lane and passed through a small side-door, which opened into a wing of the great hospital. It was familiar ground to Watson, and he needed no guiding as we ascended the bleak stone staircase and made our way down the long corridor with its vista of whitewashed wall and dun-coloured doors. He had worked there from time to time and he had even been assigned there to work on wounded men from battle. Near the further end a low arched passage branched away from it and led to the chemical laboratory.

This was a lofty chamber, lined and littered with countless bottles. Broad, low tables were scattered about, which bristled with retorts, test-tubes, and little Bunsen lamps, with their blue flickering flames. "Bit different from my day…" Watson muttered. There was only one student in the room, who was bending over a distant table absorbed in his work. At the sound of our steps he glanced round and sprang to his feet "Ah. Stamford. Good evening"

"Good evening to you too. Dr. Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said Stamford, introducing the two.

"How are you?" Sherlock said, gripping Watson's hand with a strength for which he should hardly have given him credit. "You've been in the front lines have you not?"

"How on earth did you know that?" Watson asked in astonishment.

"It doesn't matter. Anyway; the answer is yes"

"The answer to what?" Watson asked

"What your about to ask. You are about to ask if I would be interested in having a flat share with me"

"How could you know that?"

"Obvious. I talked to Stamford earlier about how difficult it is getting a flat share with someone and now here he is just after lunch with a friend who has returned from the army. Logically you are finding it difficult to find a flat share and so you're going to ask me. Wasn't a difficult leap"

"Then how _did_ you know I was in the army?"

Sherlock chuckled. "I didn't know; I _saw_. The way you stand" he pointed to Watson's feet "And your haircut" he pointed to his hair "It has Military written all over it. But your conversation as you entered the room — said trained at Bart's, so army doctor. Obvious. Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists — you've been abroad but not sunbathing. The news said that a squad in France was shot down just a few days ago. You have to be one of them. No other possibility."

Watson was astounded "Good lord! You sir are amazing!"

"Pure and simple deduction. It's as easy to me as maths is to you; you did get top grades in your final year at school after all"

"My god… how did you know this? I don't have any maths books on me and all"

Sherlock smiled "No, it's pure and simple. Everyone notices anything and everything, but most of the time; it either happens to quickly for your brain to realise, too slow and your brain gets bored, you can't be bothered to think or your just too stupid to realise. I know that you walked through a mud puddle on the way here, that you are sharing a flat with an old friend but he's married and you don't wish to intrude in his love life, that you think strongly about the way the governments of the world treat its public, that your favourite snack is a Choc-Ice and that you would gladly give up your life for your country. Pure and simple deductions! Now I must be off; I have an appointment. The address is 221B Baker Street, it's next to a big café, it isn't easily missed. See you then" Sherlock picked up his coat from his chair and placed it over his shoulders allowing his arms slip through its sleeves, and pulled a Deerstalker over his short curly hair as he headed for the door.

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**Remember to tune in for the next chapter :)**

**Alan**


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